No Better
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Sure, he might be exhausted from dealing with now, not one, but two babies, but dang if Paul's never felt better in his life. - one-shot.


"You were afraid I'd lose it, baby? Huh? Stupid baby."

"Don't call her stupid, Paul."

"Silly baby," he corrected, the child in question seated in his lap, patting at the WWE Championship belt as he held it before her. "I'mma be the champ for a long time. Don't you think so?"

"Yes," she agreed without much thought, "Daddy."

"Did you know that I'm the most important wrestler of all time? Huh? Did you?"

"No, Daddy."

"Yes, you did."

"Yes."

"I'm glad you agree."

Instead of patting the belt then, she left one palm against it as she leaned her head back, staring up at the man. "Hi."

"Hi," he breathed back, leaning down to nuzzle his head against hers. "Rora."

Her giggles weren't enough to keep his focus as he watched in silence his very pregnant wife bustling between the kitchen and the living room. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he knew that he'd seen enough of her doing it.

"Steph, what are you doin'?" he asked around the only a matter of days away from being two fucking years old's hand that was reaching up to pet at his face. Or pat it. One or the other. "Baby, come sit down."

"I'm cleaning up."

"You can't even bend over," he griped. "So just come over here and-"

"You could help."

Meh.

"Babe, I'm the fucking champion of the biggest wrestling company in-"

"Watch your mouth."

"Come sit down with me." Glancing down at his daughter who'd given up on feeling his beard and gone back to rubbing her grubby hands all over his belt (the girl had good taste; then again, it was in her blood), he added, "With us. I just got home."

And he had.

Just not having been gone that long at all, really.

It was the wee hours of Monday morning and Paul had only just arrived back from Uniondale, where they'd had The Great American Bash, or as he personally liked to call it, too fucking long for a PPV title. Regardless, at it, he'd retained his championship and rushed right back where Steph was at home, still rather pouty over he fact both he and Vince vetoed her right to come to the show.

"It's literally an hour away from home," she'd grumbled to Paul more than once. "Not even that."

"And that's an hour that I don't wanna risk if you go into labor," was his very honest response.

Because he didn't. At all.

Honestly, he was pretty antsy himself, the whole show, worried that he'd get a text saying she was having the baby and oh, look, he's stuck what to her was a short distance, but to him was eternity away.

The last thing Paul ever wanted to do was miss the birth of one of his kids. He wasn't sure why this was so important to him, but it was. Not in that showy was or over the top attention seeking type of behavior. Not even really for Steph's benefit (though that was high up on his list of priorities as well, of course). Mostly, Paul wanted to be there for himself.

His whole life hadn't been dedicated to the dream he was currently living. When he was eight he wasn't worried about living in a nice house, with a great job, having a hot wife (or loving, if he was describing the current scenario to Steph, because she liked that word better), and kids. But by the time he was twenty, it kinda was what he was striving for.

He'd been overly and abundantly blessed to get so much of it. And so soon. Paul hadn't lived a rough life growing up, but he certainly wasn't given everything in life. To have it now, to have earned it now, he was truly grateful.

And his kids were definitely a part of that.

Or kid, so far, as he'd only gotten to hold one as of then, but she was pretty much his entire life already.

And she sure liked her Daddy's title belt, which she'd gone back to beating her little palms again, making nonsensical noises as she seemed to mostly try and keep herself awake.

His week away from being two year's old toddler had actually been awake when he got in that night, which Paul was a bit shocked by. He'd excepted to slink into the house to find, maybe, their watchdog/Steph's over grown lapdog up, but instead got there to find all the lights on and Aurora, his baby, up throwing one of her massive fits.

Paul liked to trick himself into believing she was just missing him, but in reality, his daughter had been a bit of a whiny little brat recently.

He could blame himself for this, as he was frequently into giving her whatever would keep her happy (Steph said this was a problem, but he insisted she was two and it was cute), but why do that when you don't have to?

His mother, who'd come down to stay with them just a day or so ago, in preparation for the baby, was up with Stephanie, trying to get Aurora to calm down, but she was very wound up. Until she heard her daddy's voice grumbling out that she better stop all that fussing and go to bed.

She didn't go to bed, of course, but she did immediately cling onto him and go from a completely meltdown to absolute euphoria. Sleep wasn't on the docket yet, but Paul was hoping soon.

After sending his mother off to bed, Paul too Aurora downstairs to sit on the couch some and hopefully aid in wearing down her energy. He'd tried to send Steph off too, but she clearly had other plans.

"If I don't clean up," she sighed as she kicked one of Bluto's toys towards the basket of them on the other side of the room, truly unable, as he'd said, to bend over to get it, "then your mother will try to and that's embarrassing and-"

"We have a maid."

"Maids are for real cleaning. Not for messy dogs and ignorant husbands."

"Huh." He blinked, staring over at her with a frown. "That was a bit hurtful."

"Shut up, Paul."

Okay. So Steph wasn't in a good mood.

Not that it mattered. One glance down at his baby and Paul was complete.

When he finally got his daughter to bed that night, it was late (early?) and he was too tired to do much other than press a kiss to his wife's head before face planting into bed and being done for awhile.

Stephanie was still rather snippy at him over not being able to go to RAW the evening, which was in Pennsylvania, but Paul ignored her none too subtle gripes as he spent the day elated over getting to hang around with his mother and baby, as well as anxiously await Steph announcing her labor to him.

Which didn't come.

The latter part that is.

Which sucked for Paul's nerves as it fried them when, Tuesday morning, he drove out to go film Smackdown and had to leave his pissed because she couldn't go wife behind as well as his equally as confused as to her exclusion daughter. Aurora didn't know why her mother suddenly getting so freaking fat had to keep her from getting to ride on the tour bus and sleep through most of the shows anyways, but she sure didn't like it.

That night when he got home though, she was already in bed and, though he went in to check on her, Paul definitely didn't want the toddler up again.

"You sure you're not ready to, you know, push this one out?" he asked his wife when he found her still up, in bed, crying over some stupid book she was reading. She kept insisting it was an emotional novel and if he'd give it a try, he'd understand, but he was just as insistent that his kids weren't in grade school yet so he didn't have to pretend like reading was cool.

"It'd be really time efficient right now," he went on as he stripped for bed. "Stephie."

"How?" she complained as she set her book on the nightstand by her side of the bed. "You have to be completely exhausted."

"Ah. Yes. But I'm this little thing called awake." Her head got a kiss and her belly a pat. "Because in about ten seconds, when I am, I'll be a little cranky about it."

"I felt better today, actually, than I have this past week," his wife remarked. "I don't think it's happening tonight."

"Better not, Murph." He grinned down at Steph's stomach. "You hear me?"

It wouldn't. In fact, five days of skipping out of live shows later would finally result in Paul getting to tear up and cry over the slight of his little, tiny new baby just being there. Out of nowhere. It felt like. Just there. Loud and discontent with everything, but there.

He didn't think he'd ever get truly used to that.

"I love you," he found himself saying a lot that day, but in particular once when Steph was nursing their newborn and he was by her bedside, just watching. When his wife glanced at him, he grinned and added, "Both of you. The two of you." Then, again, he paused and the grin came back. "The three of you. I'mma have to learn to say that now, aren't I? All three of my girls."

"Yeah," Steph sighed as her eyes shut and his went back to watching his only a few hours old baby. "You are."

His oldest (man, he loved saying that) daughter was less than thrilled by the concept of, at first, her mother being gone for a few days, and then the even worse one of her finding out what she was gone for a few days taking care of, was also coming back home with her.

It wasn't like she was unfamiliar with the concept of a newborn. She'd been explained the concept many times, as well as having a book read to her all about having a new baby come home. Her Uncle Shane just had a new baby come home not too long ago who she'd been around and the playgroup that her nanny took her to had many other toddlers in similar situations.

However, the concept of that suddenly _her_ mother had one of those annoying, sobbing, normally stinky smaller babies wasn't exactly what she'd envisioned. Paul wasn't sure, but he had a pretty big inkling that his daughter thought that they were gonna bring her home a new baby doll, rather than an actual baby, and was in for quite a shock that this was not the case.

"Me baby," she told her father that first day when he held her over Murphy's crib to show her what, hopefully, her new sister would be doing for her first few weeks. "Daddy."

"I know. But she's a baby too."

This was not a construct she was grasping.

It was very upsetting to her that her mother and any relative that came to visit those first few days home from the hospital seemed more concerned with the other child in the house now instead of her. This wasn't to say that Paul felt like she was being actually ignored, because of course he or Steph would never let that happen, but to go from getting a hundred percent of the attention in a household to even just ninety would bee noticeable. To go to, well, he'd like to say fifty, but probably forty was rough.

Her Pop Pop Vince seemed to understand this plight the best when he made his visit, stopping by before he headed out for RAW on Monday. Paul wasn't sure if this was through understanding and compassion or for the fact his newborn granddaughter absolutely seemed to loath the man.

"She's just been fussy all day, Dad," Steph sighed when, during an hour long visit, not once was he able to hold the newborn without her sobbing inconsolably. "That's all."

"I dunno, Vinny," Paul remarked to the snickers of Shane, who'd come over as well. "She seems to like everyone else, except you."

"Only three days on the planet and already, she's got you pegged." Shane shook his head. "Perceptive, ain't she?"

So Vince spent most of the hour in Aurora's room, where both lamented, no doubt, about the stupid nursery and the baby in there that seemed to exist only to make their lives harder. They had a good chance, however, to play with all the new toys she'd gotten from her subdued birthday party the previous day. Steph said in a month, they'd give her a nicer one, with all her little friends from the playgroup, because, you know, that's all two year old's need in life is to all be congregated around one another to see a singular one get presents while the others get nothing.

They were still in Pennsylvania Tuesday when Paul found himself traveling out and leaving his girls behind. Rora cried to go with him and Murphy in general, but duty called. He wasn't far, anyways, and decided to make the trek back homo that night.

He found the house quiet that night with only Bluto, the dog, greeting him when he came in from the garage. And though he did stop to give the mastiff's head a good pat and feed him a dog treat, he was in quite the hurry to get upstairs to his newborn.

Only, she wasn't in her bedroom. And his toddler wasn't in hers. Instead, he found them in his, with his wife. His new baby was whining softly as her mother sat up in bed, attempting to comfort her, while his other daughter snoozed beside them, having drug at least half her stuffed animals into the bed for some reason.

Steph looked caught when he found them like that and was all ready for his scolding about letting the toddler make a mess of their room, but instead he only grinned at the sight.

"There are my girls," he sighed as he came in to give them each a kiss to the head. "All three of you."

"Mmmmm," Steph sighed as he nuzzled his forehead against hers before finally taking a step back so he could head into the bathroom and get ready for bed. "Here we are."

"I gotta go tomorrow."

"I know."

"But I'll get the baby quiet tonight. If you want." Still, he headed to the bathroom. "Just give me a minute."

"I'm okay." Yawning, she added, "Ask me in another hour though."

"I will."

Murph had settled out some by the time he got out of the bathroom and, after taking her to put in her crib for Steph, he definitely didn't face plant again considering he had a total bed hog to deal with (and her horde of stuffed toys), but when he fell into bed, he meant it.

For a good twenty minutes.

"Too loud," his oldest (still loved being able to say that...even if he was miserable because of it) carped when her parents had to get up to tend to her sister. "Daddy."

"Yep," he sighed, patting her on the head as he got out of bed. "Much quieter in your room though, I'd figure."

Yeah, well, she didn't. So far that dang baby got to snuggle and sit in Mommy's lap, but didn't get to sleep in her bed. So she was gonna milk such a privilege for as long as possible.

Though eventually it came to her realization that if the baby started crying in th night, she too could start crying and therefore garnish her own attention. Paul didn't know if he should be glad it'd taken her so long to figure this out or worried.

Still, when he began to say oldest daughter, he made an effort to remind himself that he didn't mean _that_ much older.

"It'll get better eventually," Steph sighed to him that night after they juggled getting both down , struggling with it enough that Paul's mother even had to come and help. As they laid down once more, both were struggle to find sleep. "You know."

"What are you talking about?" Even though he was bruise, battered, and dog tired, he faked a grin for his wife. "Get to spend the night with the three of you. How could it ever get any better than this?"

"Mmmm," Steph sighed with a shake of her head. Not even faking one for him (he tried not to feel hurt), she said, "The four of us."

"Yeah," he said, patting at his chest. "The four of us."

* * *

 **This was a request for the birth, so there you guys go. As always, you can request whatever you want. Still whittling away at the list. I've gotten a few more to add, but someone asked for something involving the Shield and Seth and Triple H and Steph's relationship to them, but I was not watching for any of that, only restarted watching last June, I think, so really only saw Seth's ousting by Trips and Steph, and considering I'm not interested in him or the other two, not real interested in writing about that. So that one's probably not gonna happen. You can ask for something else though, I guess.**


End file.
